


You're Missing Out

by Tay (erentitanjaeger)



Series: Sheithbians [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, F/F, Fem!Keith, Genderbends, Squirting, fem!shiro - Freeform, thigh riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-13 23:42:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11770917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erentitanjaeger/pseuds/Tay
Summary: Shiro may be the one at fault.  Has cancelled maybe one too many dates, given her girlfriend poor excuses, hasn't been around much.  She gets it.  Keith has a right to be mad.But did she have to tease Shiro with a photo of herself in That Damn Jacket, especially when she knows Shiro can't retaliate?





	You're Missing Out

**Author's Note:**

> This was super fun to write! I love fem sheith I wish there was more of it! So gotta create the content you wanna see in the world! Also Synnesai on twitter did a fabulous painting of the selfie Keith sent Shiro! It was the entire prompt that started this fic so you should go check it out [here!](https://twitter.com/miihuan/status/896010965531058178)

Shiro hates herself.

Not in general.  She’s come a long way since that accident in her youth that robbed her of her arm and her mono-coloured hair.  She doesn’t hate the scars that litter her body so much anymore.

She just hates herself at this moment.

The phone ringing in her ear is like a death sentence.  One she knows no lawyer could acquit her for, even herself.  She clutches it tighter in her hand, wishing against all odds that the person on the other end wouldn’t pick up.  Not that it would help anything except delaying the inevitable. 

It’s an odd feeling.  Hoping Keith _wouldn’t_ pick up the phone for once.

“Shiro!” the excited voice on the other end comes.

Shiro could kill herself. 

She can hear the excitement in Keith’s voice.  Can _feel_ it practically vibrating off Keith’s body, and Shiro is nowhere near her girlfriend right now.

“Shiro, I’m so glad you called!  You’ll never guess who tried to move our reservation?  Lance just thinks cause we’re close friends we don’t deserve a table, even though we booked it like normal people?  That ass!”

Keith is full on ecstatic.  The kind of ecstatic she wears when she sees a new motorbike in a magazine, or when a cat begs her for attention, or when Shiro wears those lace panties that she loves so much and Keith does that cute little drool thing when she-

Holy shit, Shirogane, focus.

“Hey, babe,” Shiro tries gently, but then Keith is off again.

“ _And then_ he has the gall to remind us that we owe him!  For like, that one time he helped save your client’s dinner!  As opposed to the four billion times you got him acquitted for all those parking tickets!  I was literally about to go over to there and throttle him with his own phone chord, but then remembered it would reflect badly on Hunk’s restaurant and he did nothing wrong!”

Shiro offers a laugh.  It feels hollow in her chest.

“Right.  Well, Keith, the thing is…”

Keith barely hears her.

“Doesn’t matter, though, because I made him go ruin some other poor sod’s dinner.  I want tonight to be perfect!  I got a new dress I think you’ll _really_ like.  It handles the girls very well.  Not as well as you, of course.”

Shiro has to clench her teeth at the mention of ‘the girls’.  God, she misses those girls very much.

“And, you’ll never believe what I had done.  Go on.  Guess!”

Shiro very much wants to know what Keith had done because no doubt it would be dirty and filthy and slutty and everything Shiro loves about her girlfriend when she gets like this.  However…

“Keith, I’m sorry, but I can’t make it tonight!” She gets out in a rush.

The silence is deafening.  Shiro wishes the floor to ceiling windows covering the wall of her office weren’t suicide proof.

“What?” Keith sounds incredulous.  Disbelieving.  Hurt. 

Shiro can’t blame her.

“A new file came in.  One I didn’t know about.  It’s thrown the whole case into chaos.  It’s been a madhouse here all day.  I just can’t take a night off when the court date is right around the corner.  My associates would have my head.”

Again, the silence seems to stretch on for what feels like lightyears.

“What about your _girlfriend?_ ” Keith is seething.  Pissed, and angry.  She probably has her nose scrunched up in that cute way that happens when she’s really mad.  “Because she’s also going to have your head for this.”

Shiro takes a deep, shuddering breath.  She runs her hand through her hair, ruining her perfect ponytail.  Shiro could care less about appearances of all things at this point.

“I know, Keith, I know!  I was looking forward to tonight too, you have no idea!”

“I think I have some idea if you’re willing to cancel it so easily.”

Shiro flinches.  That hurt.  She knows, way, _way_ , deep down, that Keith doesn’t mean it like that.  That Keith knows Shiro cares about her unconditionally, and this is just a result of dating a highly respected prosecutor.  Still, Shiro could do without the added guilt on top of the guilt that’s already filling her chest and squeezing her throat.

“Keith, don’t be like that,” Shiro pleads.  “You know I wouldn’t be cancelling if I really didn’t have to.”

“For fucks sake, Takashi!” Oh shit.  Keith only ever used her first name for two reasons; when she was either really blissed out on pleasure or really pissed off in anger. “You’re the senior partner!  You practically run the whole office!  You’re the boss!  Just walk out!”

“It doesn’t work like that, Keith!”

“Bullshit!” Keith whines.  Her voice cracks, the tell-tale sign that she’s moved from angry to just upset.  Shiro clenches her teeth tighter.  What she wouldn’t give to make that go away.

Sadly, she would not give her job.

“Please, Keith!  I’ll make it up to you,” Shiro tries in vein.

“You promised you’d ‘make it up to me’ like four cancelled dates ago!”

“I know…”

Then Keith sniffles, and Shiro feels her heart shatter.  She wants to be there.  She wants to be there so badly.  To hold Keith and kiss her soft lips and tell her she really, truly, does love her. 

“Fine,” Keith eventually bites out.  “I’ll call Lance and get take out.  Do you want me to leave out some leftovers for you?” 

Shiro can’t believe that even in the midst of all the anger, Keith is still taking care of her, worrying about her well-being.  Shiro doesn’t deserve Keith’s unwavering loyalty and kindness.

“No, I’ll get something here.”

“Fine.”

Shiro is sure Keith meant for the hang-up to be louder than it was, but it’s hard to make that happen when everyone uses smart phones these days. 

Shiro puts her own phone down, then slowly folds herself in half and presses her forehead to the desk.  She groans, whimpers, and sucks back the tears threatening to fall.  She spends a few minutes fixing her appearance, running her hand over the undercut that is shown when she wears her hair up high; she needs a shave.  Tries not to think about what Keith had had done and hopes it won’t go to waste.

\---

It’s lunch time the next day, or, as close to lunch time as Shiro can get.  Lunch time normally consists of propping a file open on her knee while she shoves a mediocre salad into her mouth, takes thirty seconds for herself, then returns to her desk and the mountain of work that only seemed to double the five minutes she was away.

Shiro is sombrely munching on the last leaves of lettuce when her phone vibrates next to her.  She chances a glance at the name, prepared to ignore it, but freezes when she sees Keith’s name.  And a photo attachment.

Shiro swallows, puts her lunch down and opens her screen.

And decides it would be a good day for spontaneously combusting to be a thing.

Keith has a thing for leather.  Shiro knew this before they began dating.  It thrilled her, all the jackets and pants and boots Keith could rock with literally no effort.  Even in the high-end restaurants they frequented, Keith managed to make leather seem like formal wear.  Like it should be compulsory formal wear; she always looked that good. 

Shiro had bought her the cropped jacket months ago, as a surprise gift.  Because it was bright red, shiny, and really good quality for the price it had been.  Keith, of course, had loved it, and had worn the fuck out of it ever since.  However, she always wore it as more an accessory than something that would keep her warm.  It was a little tight in the front, so couldn’t be zipped up over the swell of her breasts, even as small as they were.  The sleeves were long enough to cover her wrists, but the hem only sat just under her arms.  It suited her.

This photo was taken at a low angle, yet Keith is one of the very rare people who can make it work.  She wore the red jacket, that damn red jacket, bright red panties, and nothing else.  As some form of punishment, Keith had forced the zipper shut.  It wasn’t long enough to cover her chest completely, and that only made it worse, because that gorgeous minx knew Shiro had a thing for underboob.  Smooth, soft, pale, underboob.

Keith’s face wore a smug grin, a knowing look, her violet eyes pointed right at the camera.

Shiro had never been much of a religious person, God had seen what she was and spat her back out, but now she was very much reconsidering her history with the church.

Another message comes through just as Shiro manages to drink the photo in.

 **From:** Mrs Keith Shirogane  
_See what you’re missing out on?_

Shiro chokes on her own spit.  She has to carefully phrase her words as she replies, having to erase her message a few times before getting the right one.

 **To:** Mrs Keith Shirogane  
_That’s totally unfair._

Keith replies almost instantly.

 **From:** Mrs Keith Shirogane  
_Wow.  It’s almost like you should come home and punish me ;)_  
But you can’t.  
Got that court case to focus on.  
Good luck~ <3

It’s the most aggressively passive aggressive statement Shiro has ever been given, and she deals with passive aggression for a living.

Shiro glances at the time, realises she’s been at lunch for a whole seven minutes now, yet can’t seem to bring herself to turn her attention away from the photo.  From Keith’s fluffy hair, settled over her cheeks, making her pale skin stand out.  The jacket hugging her breasts so snuggly, just as Shiro wishes she could.

She clenches her thighs together, feeling it already, that familiar trickle of warm arousal. 

God, that should tell her how longs it’s been.  That she’s almost coming from a fucking photo of her girlfriend’s boobs, and not even all of them.

She looks over her shoulder.  Her office door is shut.  Everyone is buried under paperwork for the case.  No one has disturbed her for hours, and no one should for a few more.

Shiro doesn’t even think, just shoves the file on her lap aside, hikes up her dress and shoves a hand down her underwear, phone gripped tightly in her hand, the photo winking up at her.  She rubs herself through a much-needed orgasm, imagining those supple breasts real and against her as she does.

\---

They win the case. 

Not even barely.  They throttle the defence, a life sentence in prison, and it’s not even lunch time.  Shiro isn’t allowed to look smug, but she utters a quiet ‘good riddance’ as the criminal is led away in handcuffs.

Everyone congratulates her.  It’s a big win for the company.  Shiro takes it all with as much grace as her giddy heart will let her.  Returning to her office, it feels good to pack away the mountains of paperwork and evidence that have covered her desk for the past months.  It feels even better to pick up her phone, prepared to call Keith with the good news.

Then again…

Shiro glances at her watch.  It’s barely past one.  Keith will be home from classes now.  They just won an extremely important case, the case that had teared her relationship to shreds, and Shiro couldn’t think of a single reason she should have to stay in this office a moment longer.  She’s already given so much of her time, spent so much of it in her chair when she should have been at home.  If anyone deserves an early start to the weekend; it’s her.

She puts away her phone, slams her briefcase shut and strolls out the door.

She gets a few quizzical looks on her way out.  That’s to be expected, but she pays them no mind.  She owes nobody an explanation.  She owes nobody an excuse.  She’s leaving this building and spending a glorious forty-eight hours in bed, with the woman she loves, and Satan himself will have to rise from hell and hire her before she’s stopped.

There’s no traffic on her way home, thank God, so she pulls into her apartment’s garage in record time.  Shiro delights in seeing Keith’s motorbike parked, the final confirmation that Keith is home.  Shiro practically sprints to the elevator, yanking off her heels on the way.

The apartment is quiet when she pushes the door open.  Shiro dumps her stuff in the foyer and sneaks through the apartment, following the soft noises coming from the kitchen. 

She’s met with a beautiful sight as she peeks around the corner.

Keith is leaning against the kitchen island, spoon in her mouth, an open Nutella jar in her hand.  She’s bent over, gazing at the pages of a magazine, sucking the chocolate spread off the utensil.  Shiro catches a glance of her pert, little butt barely showing under the beat-up, old college shirt she wears, ratty underwear peeking out under the hem, barely hugging her ass. 

Keith looks like she’s been home for a while, and clearly having not expected Shiro home for hours, threw on whatever was most comfortable.  Shiro doesn’t mind in the least.  Keith looks sexy no matter what she wears.

Shiro is careful as she pads around the corner, waits for Keith to take the spoon out of her mouth so she doesn’t choke on it, and grabs her.  Shiro immediately wraps her arms around her girlfriend, hands finding soft breasts, squeezing Keith’s lithe frame to her.  The offending squeal splits the silence in half, Shiro cackling as Keith attempts to fight her off.  Keith slowly calms, realising who it is, and slouches against Shiro’s body.

“Jesus Christ!” Keith gasps, head fallen back onto Shiro’s shoulder, her eyes shut in relief.  “You gave me a fucking heart attack!”

Shiro still has firm fingers pinching Keith’s boobs.

She only laughs, nosing black hair out of the way and pressing wet kisses all along the column of Keith’s throat.  Keith immediately goes boneless, groans, her ass grinding against Shiro’s crotch, but her chest arching into Shiro’s hands.  Keith’s head tips to the side, letting Shiro suckle and nibble on pale skin.

“Don’t you tease,” Keith whines, already grasping at Shiro’s fingers, begging for them to start kneading her, just how she likes.  Shiro obliges, finding her nipples through the thin layer of cloth Keith has on, rolling them under her thumbs.  They immediately harden, Keith’s nipples standing up at the knowledge that she’s finally getting the attention she’s been craving; that she deserves.  “I swear to God, if you’re just here for lunch, I’m going to rut on your thigh while you choke down a sandwich if I have to.”

Shiro moans at the thought.  With a final squeeze of Keith’s breasts, she twists Keith around in her arms, hooks her hands under smooth thighs and hoists Keith up onto the counter.  She immediately finds her place between them. 

“No, baby, I’m yours all weekend,” Shiro breathes onto plump lips, and then plants a very wet, sloppy kiss onto Keith’s mouth.

Keith is grappling, trying to catch up.  Hands fly to Shiro’s neck, her shoulders, fingers raking down her back, trying to find the zipper on her dress.  Tongues dance, split flies.  Shiro knew they were both desperate for each other, but the soft moans and breathy sighs don’t seem to get out how much Shiro has _needed_ Keith or for how long. 

Shiro lets her hands trail up Keith’s thighs, carefully grazing them with her fingernails, hooking her fingers in the stretched elastic of Keith’s underwear and yanking them down as far as they’ll go until the countertop stops them going any further.  Keith lifts her hips so Shiro can slide them the rest of the way off her legs.

“If you’re lying, I’ll make you pay,” Keith threatens.  She’s wary, cautious, doesn’t want to get her hopes up that Shiro might be telling the truth and is here to give Keith exactly what she’s wanted for weeks now.  Shiro hurts at the thought that Keith has to be suspicious of her at all.

“I promise you,” Shiro gets out in-between pressing sucking kisses over Keith’s shoulders, stretching the collar of the shirt to do the same to her clavicle.  “We’re going to get naked, and we’re going to stay that way until at least Sunday night.  We’re going to eat nothing but take-out food and whatever’s in the fridge.  I’m going to fuck you so many times, your pussy will be bruised beyond belief by the time I’m done with you.  I’m not leaving until we’re both blissed out on orgasms and reek of sweat and sex.”

Keith gasps, whimpers, clutches Shiro’s face and brings her up for another sloppy kiss.  Shiro moans into it, deep and long.

“That’s a total lie,” Keith says, placing more kisses onto Shiro’s lips and down her throat.  Shiro makes a confused grunt, going to defend herself before Keith continues, whispering into her ear.  “I’m going to eat more than take out; I’m going to eat you.”

Shiro doesn’t give her the chance, simply pushes Keith far enough up the counter space so she can bend over comfortably and begin nosing between Keith’s supple thighs. 

“Hey, I called dibs.”

Then her lips descend and Keith all but screams at the contact.  Jesus Christ, Shiro thinks, Keith is already so wet on her tongue.  Shiro wants to tease, wants to nip at Keith’s thighs, give her dripping cunt little kitten licks until she’s begging for more, but they’ve both gone too long without this that teasing isn’t even in their peripheral right now. 

Instead, Shiro immediately brings up a hand to run a finger through Keith’s folds.  They come back moist and slick.  Shiro moans at the feeling, sucking on Keith’s clit and pushing her fingers into her eager hole.  Keith arches, a hand gripped in Shiro’s hair, pulling at the loose strands enough it sort-of hurts.  Shiro welcomes the feeling. 

She digs her tongue against Keith’s heat, feeling the clit throb, Keith’s walls clenching around her finger.  She pushes another digit in, licks and sucks, then pushes another in.  Keith lets out broken sobs as she rolls against slick soaked fingers, arching her pussy against Shiro’s mouth, practically riding Shiro’s tongue.  Shiro is dripping now too.  She’s sure there’s a wet patch soaking through her own underwear, but she has both hands occupied and can’t worry about herself right now.

She’s not the one who deserves this.

“You’re such a good girl,” Shiro breathes against Keith, kissing, sucking, fingering.  Keith is gasping, one hand fisted in Shiro’s hair, the other clutching at the hand over her breast.  Shiro is sure Keith’s face will be kissed pink by now, hair flying over her face and small tears leaking from her eyes.  She’d be beautiful.  Shiro wants to look, but she’s concentrating so hard on making this as good as possible for her.  “Waiting so patiently for me.  Being so understanding.  Putting up with all my bullshit.”

Shiro removes her hand from Keith’s chest so she can crouch down in between Keith’s legs properly, spreading her folds and driving her tongue hard into Keith’s pussy.  Keith whines, gasping, arching her back off the counter.

Shiro’s own clit throbs at the sound.

“And now you’re being so good for me still,” Shiro continues, pressing sucking kisses to Keith’s heat in between her words, licking off all the slick Keith is gushing out.  God, Shiro hopes Keith squirts.  “Got your thighs spread so wide for me, panting and riding my tongue, begging for it like the little slut you are?  Such a good girl for me, you deserve so much.”

Keith whines, filthy and high and wanton, her hips rolling, trying to get even more of Shiro’s tongue. 

Shiro gives it to her.

Keith comes like that.  Barely having time to lower herself before her orgasm crashes onto her like a whip against her spine, come flying from her and onto Shiro’s chin.  It’s roiling and white hot and Keith is panting, gasping, isn’t sure whether she wants to thrust harder onto Shiro’s tongue or get away from it.  She settles for some odd combination of the two, hips stuttering.  Shiro holds her down as she licks the last of her girlfriend’s come from her folds.

Shiro presses another wet kiss to Keith’s clit, then begins to travel up.  She presses kisses to Keith’s navel, her stomach.  Shiro kisses all the way up, sucks a bruise into the side of her breast.  Keith barely has the energy to protest, to hold Shiro to her.  She’s deadweight on the counter, legs dangling off one end and head thrown over the other.  So, Shiro stays between her breasts, rolling them in her hands and laving them with the affection they deserve.  Keith whimpers when a warm tongue brushes her nipple.

“Holy fuck, Shiro,” she manages to rasp out, pulling her head up, carefully pushing herself onto her elbows so she can look Shiro in the eyes.  “Holy fucking shit!”

Shiro laughs, grins, and places a warm kiss to Keith’s lips.  Keith grips the back of Shiro’s head, presses their mouths harder together, smudging her fluids over both their chins.  Shiro hums, happy to play with Keith’s tongue as they lie there, awkwardly splayed over the counter, panties on the floor and Keith’s breasts poking out from under the shirt hiked up to her chin.

“Filthy,” Keith mutters when they separate, foreheads pressed together still. 

“Gorgeous,” is all Shiro can reply with.

There’s a warm silence as they just bask in the afterglow, enjoying each other’s missed company.  Shiro feels the need to reach between her legs and get herself off, her clit basically shouting at her now, but it’s so serene and good between them right now, she can’t risk disturbing this peace.

“So, do you like it?” Keith asks, quiet but arrogant.  Shiro only snorts.

“Did I like eating you out?  Yes, baby, I enjoyed eating you out.”

Keith gives her a playful kick.

“I meant the other thing.”

Shiro gives her girlfriend a questioning look.  Keith only stares back smugly, lets her eyes trail down to her naked crotch, then back up to Shiro’s face.  Shiro followers Keith’s gaze for a moment, wondering what she means-

“Oh my God, you waxed!?”

Keith erupts into a fit of giggles.

Shiro might’ve asked, might’ve questioned it, but she was too busy groaning her appreciation against Keith’s inner thigh to warrant words.  Keith only continues to stifle her pleased laughter.

Shiro lifts herself from Keith’s crotch, presses a searing kiss to already kiss-bruised lips, before gathering Keith in her arms and lifting the sprightly body from the counter.  Legs are wrapped around her waist, arms wind around her shoulders, and Shiro marches to the bedroom. 

It takes a moment for them to get naked.  Keith only has to pull her shirt the rest of the way off, but Shiro has to wrestle out of her dress, stockings, socks and about fifty other layers that do nothing but keep her perfect image maintained.  It feels good to be rid of it all, knowing she won’t have to climb back into that perfect case she has for herself until Monday.  Keith has fun teasing her bra off, kissing where the straps were as she slides them off, unhooking it from the front and then teasing her nipples.  Shiro grins at the attention.

They crash onto the mattress, the covers already rumpled from when they hadn’t bothered making the bed that morning.  Shiro shoves them out of the way, and gasps when she’s pushed to the pillows, a warm body clambering on top of her.  Keith presses the entire line of her body against Shiro’s, and then their lips meet in a searing and wet kiss.  It’s warm, and hot, and intimate.  Everything Shiro has been dreaming of.  She can feel Keith’s wetness where the girl is straddling her thigh, can feel Keith’s breasts pressed against her own.  Shiro hums into the kiss, arms wound tight around the small body on top of her.

Keith gets comfortable, wriggling a little, causing sparks to fire up Shiro’s body when a soft thigh grinds between her legs.  She moans against Keith’s lips, even more so when Keith tangles fingers in long, dark hair, angling Shiro’s neck so kisses are littered across it.  Shiro tries to make sense of up and down, but finds it so difficult when Keith is being so eager.

“I need,” Keith is whimpering against Shiro’s skin.  “I need it again.  Shiro.  Please.”

Shiro’s veins ignite.  Who is she to deny this sweet girl the deepest of pleasures?

“Ride my thigh, baby,” Shiro murmurs, already shifting so her own thigh is pressing against Keith’s heat.  Keith whines again, short, stuttering rolls of her hips grinding her clit against the muscle.  Shiro moans in tandem, Keith’s own leg pressed against her.  Shiro gasps at the feeling, the coil burning in her stomach, building fast and hot.  “God, yes, just like that.”

Keith pushes herself up so she has more leverage, hand firm on Shiro’s breasts, another on her stomach, pushing down gently, but enough for Shiro to whine high and wild.  Keith is grinding in earnest now, rocking back and forth, head thrown back as she bares herself to Shiro.  Shiro is sweating, heated at the core by the spitfire that is her girlfriend, the vivacious creature on top of her.

“There you go, sweetheart,” Shiro breathes, knowing it’s her words that will help Keith reach the ultimate high she’s searching for.  “Look at you, wanton and lovely, using my body to get yourself off.  Taking your own selfish pleasure like the filthy slut you are.  So dirty and eager for me.”

Keith’s eyes are rolled back, her teeth sunk into her plump, bottom lip.  She moans deep in her throat, euphoria etched on her every feature. 

“Yeah, but,” she gasps out, breath hitching as she rolls her hips just right.  “I’m your slut.”

Shiro wants to reach up and tangle fingers in her hair, bring her down for a filthy kiss, where their tongues can roam each other’s mouths and necks and chests. 

So she does just that.

There’s spit dribbling down their chins.  Keith is making those little, raspy moans, the ones that tell Shiro she’s close to a really good orgasm.  Shiro just needs to get there with her. 

“Keith, be a good girl, help me come.”

Shiro feels Keith press their lips together again, a hand trailing down her stomach, finding her clit and coating it in her own slick.  Shiro gasps into the kiss as Keith’s fingers slide over her so easily, fast and sloppy, her entire being igniting.  She’s wrapping arms tightly around Keith now, pressing their sweating, heaving chests together.  She rolls her hips up against those fingers, smashed against her pussy by Keith’s own movements against her thigh.

Keith parts from her lips.  Shiro gazes into Keith’s eyes, wonderful violet making her entire chest seize with adoration.  Keith pants, hot and moist against her face, her hips moving faster than ever, fingers digging against Shiro’s clit.  Shiro tries not to move her legs, less Keith lose her rhythm, but it’s so hard when Keith’s fingers are working such magic on her.

“Shiro, I’m gonna…” her strangled voice trails off.  Shiro grips her face, pressing one more kiss to her mouth.

“Come, Keith.  Spill yourself on me.  Let it go, sweetheart.”

She does.  Keith cries and gasps as her orgasm takes her.  Shiro feels her spine snap backwards as her own orgasm releases its coil, hot and blinding.  It races through every one of her muscles, causing her to bite down on Keith’s shoulder.  Keith only whines, grunting, gasping, her hips stuttering against Shiro’s leg, her hands leaving bruises on Shiro’s hips and on her breast.

Shiro rasps, her arms wound so tight around Keith, holding her small frame flush against her own body.  She can feel Keith’s wet pussy still pressed against her thigh, coming dribbling down and tickling her skin, can feel Keith peel herself off only long enough to crumble into the sheets beside Shiro.  Shiro wastes no time, rolling over and enveloping Keith in her arms again. 

Keith hums, a grin spread across her face, eyes closed as she lets her breathing even out.  Her hair is sweaty and damp, clinging to her forehead and neck.  Small, yellow bruises already forming on her tits.  Shiro can’t help but smile at the sight, having missed it entirely, having wanted so much to be intimate with her girlfriend, she hadn’t realised all she had missed as a result of it.

“God,” Keith grunts, opening her eyes.  They’re wet and shiny and beautiful, focused on Shiro.  She adjusts so she’s pressed more firmly to Shiro now, their bodies interlocked like gears in a clock.  Shiro forgot how well they fit together.  How good it felt.  “That almost made the wait worth it.  _Almost.”_

Shiro laughs, running her hands over Keith’s side soothingly, revelling in the heat radiating from her body.

“I am sorry,” she manages to say, when it’s silent again, when the afterglow has almost faded.

Keith sighs into the pillow.

“I know, and I know you had every reason to cancel all those dates.  It just…sucked, you know?”

Boy, does Shiro know.

“You were right though,” Shiro says, trying to grasp words not coming to her at the time.  “I should say no more.  I just…” She trails off.  She never knows why she stays so late, why she tries too hard.  It’s more than just because it’s her job.

“I get it,” Keith is saying.  Shiro peers at her face.  Keith brings up a hand to cup Shiro’s cheek, and Shiro gladly leans into it, lets it further warm her face.  “You feel everyone has this expectation of you, and that it’s your job to live up to it, even if those expectations are totally unrealistic.”  Keith is looking at her, expression filled with an understanding so brilliant, it’s blinding.

Shiro feels something spark in her head, something she recognises entirely.

She just fell in love with Keith all over again.

“I love you,” Shiro finds herself blurting out.  Keith is stunned, a little shocked.  Her eyes go wide and her lips part.  She always gets that way when Shiro springs this on her. 

Her face goes up in flames, bright red across her cheeks and ears.

“I love you, too,” Shiro hears, but it’s mumbled, said more to the pillow than to herself.  Shiro only laughs, moving ever closer to her girlfriend and smothering her hair in kisses. 

“How about, once we rest a little more, we get the strap-on out?” Shiro whispers against sweat soaked hair.  Keith seems to shudder, her whimpering muffled but obvious.

She lifts her head up, flicking her bangs out of the way.

“The black one?”

Shiro gives her a knowing grin, a filthy look.

“The black one.”

\---

It’s late that night.  They’re nestled on the couch, surrounded by Chinese food containers and pizza boxers, wrapped in blankets, pressed up against each other.  Something is playing on Netflix in the background, but Shiro can’t pay attention, not when Keith is so warm against her, so delicate and fragile. 

Keith lies against Shiro’s chest, back rising and falling, barely awake, relaxed as she is.  Shiro plays with Keith’s hair, carding fingers over her scalp.  Keith sighs every time Shiro grazes her nails against her scalp just right.  Shiro smiles warmly every time Keith nuzzles her breasts, muttering something about ‘my boobies’.

It’s approaching one am, the large grandfather clock in their living room ticking away the time they share together.

“Keith,” Shiro whispers, rousing Keith from her place.  “Keith, we should move back to the bed.  It’ll be more comfortable.”

The one time they fell asleep on the couch, they had awoken with sore necks and twisted backs, and vowed never again.  Keith has seemed to forgotten this, only pressing closer, intent on ignoring Shiro’s words.  Shiro rubs her shoulders fondly, pressing a kiss to her hair. 

“Okay, just a little more, but we need to move back to the bedroom eventually.”

Keith ignores her.

Shiro can only grin, knowing this is born of habit, of Keith feeling like she can get away with this nonsense because Shiro is weak to all her little nuzzles and soft touches.  Shiro tries to resist, tries to be a pillar of stability in Keith’s life, yet is tested again and again by the small, ethereal creature sleeping on her chest.  She wouldn’t have it any other way, would gladly give up whatever was necessary to make Keith happy. 

The movie continues playing, the noise filling the room but making no impact on their little bubble.  They end up falling asleep where they are, tucked under soft blankets, huddled against each other.  Shiro’s legs end up getting a bad case of pins and needles.  Keith has a sore neck in the morning.  They both have kinks in their backs.  Yet they can’t bring themselves to regret it. 

They can never bring themselves to regret any time the universe allows them to be together.

**Author's Note:**

> There might be a sequel...maybe...


End file.
